Pathway to Japanese Literature

First: In the Miyoshi region near Itsukaichi’s hinterland lay Funo Village, where an impoverished farmer couple raised a single son. The child showed remarkable vigor from birth, and by six or seven years of age, he would gather neighborhood children—those around ten to fourteen or fifteen years old—to wrestle. None could match him, nor could they rival him in other contests of strength. His parents rejoiced, saying, “Truly this is a kite birthing a hawk—to keep such a child as our own feels almost presumptuous.” The wife then proposed: “With our meager fields manageable by just us two, might you venture to Itsukaichi to inquire after a suitable place to apprentice him?” When the husband went upon the child turning nine and made earnest inquiries, he learned that the □□ shelf district was renowned for sumo wrestlers.

The area being one where particularly vigorous people resided came to be called Genki Alley. Upon hearing this account, he proceeded from there to the ranking sumo wrestler's quarters at Kayui's Shelf. When he related his child's exceptional robustness, the wrestler—being favorably disposed and having attendants here—said: “As matters stand with your current circumstances, by all means bring him tomorrow as he is.”

When the ranking sumo wrestler said he would provide honorable patronage in every way possible, the parents joyfully offered deep bows and returned home from there. They informed the wife of the situation and, unable to wait for dawn, took the child to visit the aforementioned wrestler’s quarters. The ranking sumo wrestler, upon seeing the child, showed exceptional delight. He summoned local disciples aged thirteen or fourteen to fifteen years old and had them wrestle [the boy], but none among the disciples proved victorious. This brought even greater joy to their master. The father too returned home elated. When he later went again to Itsukaichi to inquire about progress, from that point onward he had [the child] rigorously practice sumo training. Taking him around neighboring areas until age twelve, then venturing to Hiroshima to seek renowned instructors, they traveled through various provinces until at eighteen years old [the youth] entered the upper ranks in Osaka.

After changing his name to Mitsui Gonpachi, he soon proceeded to Edo and was employed by a certain daimyo, where he remained for approximately twenty years. Gradually becoming self-indulgent, he took to wearing unpatterned white garments and carrying a sword over three shaku in length with a cart’s axle attached at his hip. He instigated brawls in crowded places throughout various locales until these matters reached the ears of the lord’s residence.

From there, he was dismissed from Japan Sumo due to their management. Though he managed to live by selling various tools and other items two or three times thereafter, as hardships gradually mounted, he first recalled his parents and truly thought of them with regret. Wishing at least to visit his parents’ gravesite, he sought a means and visited the Geishū clan’s residence.

After various and gradual efforts and concerns, when he returned to Hiroshima accompanied by the lord’s retainers—from there it being twenty ri to his hometown—but as proceeding from there proved difficult, he gradually sought assistance from people; whereupon at the residence one trustworthy person emerged, and from there he began occasionally visiting the upper residence quarters.

Amidst various circumstances, Hirata Gozaemon’s retainers emerged; the allied retainers made requests, occasionally hiring people, which caused extraordinary trouble.

When they reported this matter to Gonpachi, that very situation proved to be most troublesome.

As the stipend rice had ceased arriving, they repeatedly entreated [someone] to “please take [us] back,” and when this matter was reported to Lord Gozaemon, he rejoiced, saying he would employ them generously. Thus arrangements were swiftly made for them to proceed to Lord Gozaemon’s residence. Upon arriving, even food preparation proved exceptionally disorderly for the allied retainers, yet through various means they managed to cope. Gradually learning tasks like crafting straw sandals, they sustained themselves until spring arrived when word reached Miyoshi that they were being escorted back.

When this matter came under discussion—that Lord Gozaemon had taken in Mitsui, the renowned sumo wrestler now dismissed from Japan Sumo out of necessity—it became a topic throughout both the household and the town. Yet before long, they returned.

From there, young sumo wrestlers from the town began visiting. As this Lord Gozaemon lived alone in his domain entrusting matters to his retainers and going out day and night, the young men unhesitatingly attached themselves to Gonpachi. A great number gathered to practice sumo in private. Since we too went nightly to observe but concluded mere spectatorship brought no benefit, we addressed retainer Gonbei: “Rather than watching, we should become Gonpachi’s disciples and train as sumo wrestlers.” To this Gonbei also assented.

From then on they came out every night, and there were also occasions when younger brothers were summoned.

There were also instances of having them sleep indoors before sending them out.

Beside them lay timber and stone walls; seating themselves there Gonpachi and his disciples rested. Amid tales of Gonpachi’s exploits across various provinces—where he claimed no fearsome entity existed and martial arts could not rival his own strength—...

Even were one a master swordsman—should he swing a timber of fitting size and strike—both the blade that meets it and its wielder would be cleft asunder; thus he declared nothing surpasses strength.

That caught my ear—this brute who relied solely on his strength while disparaging martial arts was truly contemptible. The matter festered until I could no longer ignore it. Thereafter, I relegated sumo to secondary status and approached Gonpachi’s resting place. When I challenged him—“Though I too once claimed martial arts cannot rival strength, does this mean strength utterly surpasses them?”—he retorted, though not yet advanced in years: “Do you censure my words?”

“You know nothing of what lies twenty ri ahead,” I declared.

“I speak no falsehoods,” he countered. “To claim a strong wrestler surpasses warrior’s arts reveals profound delusion.”

“Sumo is mere brute craft—unworthy of practice.”

“Were I to become your disciple and let you throw me a hundred times,” I pressed, “you’d still lose if we fought now.” With no rebuttal forthcoming as the hour reached nine, all withdrew.

Bystanders later admonished Gonpachi: “Henceforth avoid samurai matters. Between superior and inferior, strength cannot prevail. Keep to harmless tales.”

The next evening when I approached his resting spot, he offered contrition: “My earlier words were grave overstatement.”

“We brutes could never match martial arts,” his followers echoed.

During those days, though we often camped outdoors and slew three or four bandits, no true terrors befell us. Having never encountered wolves, wild dogs, or shape-shifters, I scoffed: “Monsters taking varied forms? Such things no longer exist.”

“Indeed,” Gonpachi conceded. “We’ve ambushed four or five times here—capturing foxes and badgers, but no true apparitions. Yet while you focus locally, I’ve ranged nationwide.”

“If we both deny monsters,” I challenged, “let us test those two or three places in this land where none dare venture.”

“Easily done,” he agreed. “Name any inaccessible site—we’ll mark our passage there.”

That night all withdrew. Knowing Gonpachi’s nature would lead him somewhere formidable, I recalled my ninth year when Nakayama Gendayu, Tsuda Kadenji, and Okano Shodayū conspired to gather karasasa bamboo from Mount Hikuma for May dumplings. Begging Gendayu at dawn to join them brought refusal: “No place for children—overgrown with kaya grass and rocks.”

Yet through persistent pleading—“Take me anyway; we’ll retreat if climbing fails”—they relented. The summit called Senjōjiki awaited.

At eight-tenths ascent, an axe-bearing woodsman emerged: “Why climb this far? Beyond lies the lord’s graveyard—massive stones where touch brings instant death, pointing induces vomiting. For generations we’ve avoided it. Return now—find bamboo below.”

“For generations we have been told not to ascend beyond this point, so I must plainly bid you return—the karasasa bamboo is common enough here, I tell you.”

Though the karasasa bamboo was plentiful, they had come wanting to gather suitable karasasa, but since that was the case, they did not ascend and all turned back together.
I considered thus: Though there were places that people feared not to approach, given Gonpachi’s nature, he would undoubtedly venture to such formidable locations. With this in mind, that evening I refrained from mentioning trivial matters when addressing Gonpachi.
"I have thought of a place. If we ascend to yonder Mount Hikuma and investigate—there being a large rock there—we can leave a marker using cordage. Tie it there and return," I said.
When someone urged, "Then let us go retrieve it," Gonpachi responded: "I acknowledge your plan, yet having frequented only peripheries since youth and being unversed in this honored locale's ways, I shall prepare markers. Take these and proceed first."
"Moreover," he added, "while retrieving the markers, I shall come myself."
Without showing the slightest reluctance and with resolute bearing, he declared: "Very well—I shall go. Prepare markers to place throughout key points." Using straw rope meant for sandal-making, they charred mnemonic symbols onto wood scraps with fire tongs, cutting them to two-fathom lengths before presenting them at departure.
"Until then," he stated, "I had kept this concealed."
"They persistently pressed, 'Let us go now,' but I insisted: 'First, as I have proposed an opportune time, I bid you wait.'"
"I believed we should await nightfall; though they urged again on April twenty-second, I first made them wait."
After that, they did not press further.

Every night we went out for sumo practice, but on the twenty-eighth day of the fourth month, rain began falling in the evening. As night deepened, thunder grew violent and lightning strikes intensified. Even amidst such downpour, many sumo trainees had gathered. Around the fourth hour of night, Gonpachi called me to his side and declared, “We shall ascend the mountain now.”

He stated, “I shall now hand over the marker.”
In my heart, I knew the gate of Saikōji Temple lay buried under debris with no path remaining, but voicing this would reveal my own inability to climb—thus I resolved to stay silent.

Acknowledging his order with a bow, I received the marker and—clad only in a bamboo-bark hat and straw sandals—set out immediately.

He soon realized Saikōji Temple was impassable. Nakayama Gendayu’s residence possessed a rear gate facing the town quarter, beyond which stood the clan deity Taisai Daimyōjin.

Arriving there, I found a low sacred fence.

Crossing it and ascending the stairs encircling the dance hall, I reached the main structure.

Though this marked Mount Hikuma’s base, no path existed—yet I resolved to climb from there.

Nakayama Gendayu was elder brother to my foster father Shinpachi. My foster father had gone to stay with him due to his biological mother’s illness.

Moreover, Shinpachi himself felt slightly unwell.

Thus those managing the household were myself, my younger brother Katsuya, and the retainer Gonbei.

Approaching Lord Gendayu’s residence, I urgently requested passage through the rear gate.

When I stated, “There is a matter demanding my immediate departure,” elder brother Shinpachi inquired, “Is the household secure?”

“I have thoroughly instructed Gonbei regarding affairs and wish to make a brief excursion.”

“I humbly seek your permission.”

“For my return, I shall rely upon the outer gate.”

“Secure the premises at once,” I concluded.

Exiting through the rear gate, I crossed Taisai Tamagaki’s sacred fence and ascended to the dance hall. Tucking up my robes firmly and preparing myself, I climbed the stairs—rain lashing down mercilessly while thunder gods raged without respite. Dense vegetation choked all paths; groping upward along watercourses, I found trees crowding thicker at higher elevations, barring passage.

My hat tore apart; soon discarding it entirely, I let my sash-cord dangle freely with nothing to wipe my face—eyes open or closed made no difference in this blindness.

Struggling through undergrowth for what felt hours, I finally reached level ground near seven o’clock where Senjōjiki’s well was said to lie.

Starting from there, though I thoroughly searched around step by step, I could not find anything resembling a shrine's stone monument. However, there was a slightly hard spot. Probing and observing it step by step, he found there was a height of fourteen or fifteen ken. Upon climbing to its midpoint, there was something—whether stone or earth, he couldn’t tell—measuring four or five shaku in circumference. Upon carefully probing and examining, it appeared to be a rock buried under moss and vines; becoming convinced this was indeed the case, he took out the marker rope fastened at his waist and wound it around the rock he believed to be the stone monument, intending to secure it—but the rope proved too short and could not be tied. Therefore, he wound it around below and left it, placing stones from around the rock and clumps of soil atop the marked rope. He descended straight from there, but having greatly deviated in direction, it was not above Taisai but above Saikōji. On the return journey as well, there was rain, roaring thunder, and intense lightning, but as the path—still overgrown with kōsasa bamboo from when it had been an ascending route—made the descent exceptionally arduous, he descended to the gravesite, below which lay the cemetery within Saikōji’s town precincts. From that place, a great voice called my name, and I answered repeatedly as I descended. Flickers of firelight became visible—two or three in number—and the closer I drew, the more they called. When I saw a few people there, they were five young men from the neighborhood. Since my return was excessively delayed, those entrusted with the household had inquired with Gonbei and Gonpachi. When Gonpachi rashly decided to test matters by climbing that Mount Hikuma yet still had not returned—which they declared most strange—the household duties were then left to Gonpachi. When Gonbei went to Nakayama Gendayu's residence, Gendayu and Shinpachi became greatly alarmed, immediately accompanying him back. Though they dispatched messages to Kageyama and Kawada within the household, Kinzaemon and Sennojō arrived while summoning the neighboring Lord Gozaemon. With Gonpachi at the center of this major commotion, there could be no swift resolution to his return. Though we five had been entrusted with the task, the torrential rain proved too severe—even the pine torches' flames could not be kept lit in the hanging lanterns, making it impossible for us to ascend. When they heard voices calling at the intended location, they truly believed it to be divine providence. On their way to search, they roused Saikōji Temple and explained the circumstances, whereupon the head priest grew greatly alarmed. As fires were lit in both the main hall and veranda, they proposed first returning to Saikōji. Within the residence, the entire household emerged—Gonpachi summoned and Lord Gozaemon also making an appearance—all awaiting their return with such urgency that the searchers were compelled to hasten back immediately. Peering into Saikōji one last time, they now descended the mountain and returned. When they repeatedly expressed their profound gratitude, the head priest emerged from his quarters, remarked on their safe return without injury—"Truly this is a most uneventful resolution"—and as it was already nearing dawn, stated, "We shall shortly attend to your request," before retreating into the inner chambers. Now, it was stated that this was not Gonpachi’s doing. "I clambered up and did ascend." "For certain reasons," he declared he must return. When they all returned together, Gonpachi withdrew to a place at his side where everyone was lamenting. Gendayu and Shinpachi severely rebuked me, but first—since I had returned without injury—had wounds been sustained, it would have caused great turmoil within the household; as they all harshly scolded me for being reckless, I stated there was absolutely no need for such concern. "In truth," I declared, "I have sustained no injuries whatsoever." "Moreover," I continued, "if you were to reprimand Gonpachi on the grounds that these deeds are his doing, that would be a grave error."

“Truly, this night excursion was undertaken by myself alone as a trial of how a warrior should conduct himself in any place—there exists not the slightest fault in Gonpachi’s actions,” I declared. Lord Gozaemon showed great relief, remarking how this differed utterly from Gonbei’s report: “Since no negligence lies with the retainers, this humble lord shall take his leave.” Thus did he summon Gonpachi to return with him.

The remaining household members were admonished with “Henceforth, let all conduct themselves with prudence,” whereupon they departed.

Now, regarding my statement that ‘I, Gonpachi, know nothing of this matter’—it was made because I intended shortly to have Gonpachi ascend to that aforementioned place.

That day, when Lord Gozaemon too departed at dusk, Gonpachi arrived and stood dumbfounded.

The ascent of Mount Hikuma had proceeded without the slightest mishap.

What alteration could there be?

“I entreat you to hear me,” he said.

“Were I to declare that nothing whatsoever has changed,” I proclaimed, “then by that very fact, these so-called monsters cannot exist.”

“Though picture books depict varied forms of transformations, they are all mere fictions.”

“Yet,” he continued, “when I perform the Hundred Tales ritual as transmitted by a man of Edo, monsters will assuredly manifest—this admits no doubt.”

“The method is thus: stretch blue paper over a lantern, light it with four gō and four shaku of oil, cut one hundred wicks into a bundle held in one hand, then extinguish one wick per tale told. As we snuff them one by one, an unplaceable dread shall permeate the air until—so I have heard—a transformed being appears without fail. Therefore have I prepared lantern, oil, and wicks exactly thus. When last you ascended Mount Hikuma, I accompanied you to retrieve the marker placed beside the rock. Might you now deign to join me there for this Hundred Tales ritual?”

"I shall not retreat an inch.
'While it would indeed be proper for you alone to retrieve the marker,' I declared, 'as this occasion involves the Hundred Tales ritual, I too must unavoidably attend. Therefore, refrain from acting independently - join your lord's side. At duskfall, before Saikōji's gates close, wait concealed at the graveyard's corner. I shall venture forth after nightfall.'
'I shall venture forth,' he declared.
From there, Gonpachi gathered a lantern, a large earthenware pot, wicks, oil, and other items, wrapped them in a large cloth bundle in his own room, and concealed it.
Having assessed the weather - it now being the third day of the fifth month - he declared his intention to accompany them that evening."

“It shall be done.” When he stated “I shall make my way behind the gravesite after dusk,” I resolved to ensure no oversights by nightfall and promised to bring what was needed. After preparing provisions for our post-dusk departure and arriving at our agreed location—from there we ascended together—but halfway up Mount Hikuma’s slope,Gonpachilookedatmeandexclaimed:“Whatan extraordinary honorable sir...”

“Though fair skies prevail,” he declared,“to climb this harsh mountain by night amidst thunderous rains—no ordinary man could achieve such.” To this I responded:“When I last ascended via themain path,therewasnotrail—Itrampled through thickets and brush.Even now upon reaching this point,the overgrowth leaves no discernible way.”

From there we pressed onward until reaching Senjōjiki.Hearing of awell’s presence,wemovedcrawlingandgropinguntil findingtheright-handrock.IsaidtoGonbei:“This rock marks Miyoshi-dono’s grave—strikeitanddieinstantly;pointatitandretchblood.”Though I offered no explanation,I had intendedtoascendandshow somethingnovel.Butwhenheordered“Youclimbfirst,”Ihadnochoicebuttoascendwithallmymight.Evenifmerefolklore,Iexplained,a warriorneedfearnocensure—yetheremaineddumbstruck.

1. On the First Day of the Seventh Month in the Second Year of Kan'en (1749), light rain fell from evening. Though thunder rumbled through the night, the rain never intensified. As was customary, we attended the sumo practice grounds and withdrew before the ninth hour.
We—both I and Gonbei—returned home and performed our nightly routine: retrieving provisions from the cupboard with cupped hands before lying down immediately. Though exhaustion always claimed us the moment our heads touched the pillows, this night found our eyes leaden yet stubbornly wakeful.
"I find myself gripped by inexplicable terror tonight," Gonbei blurted out, his voice trembling. "I cannot remain here—please grant this humble servant leave to sleep at the edge of your honorable mosquito net."
"This is preposterous," I countered. "A grown man cowering together invites greater danger." Yet he clung like a barnacle: "The hairs bristling at the skylight petrify me! At least permit me shelter near its edge!"
"No matter your excuses," I rebuked, "this fear stems from exhaustion—from nightly sumo drills that leave you too spent for proper rest."
"You mistake weariness for terror."
"I too find sleep elusive tonight," I began—when suddenly the twin shoji doors before us blazed as if struck by pine torches. "The vent's aflame!" I cried, lifting my pillow only to plunge us into blackness before light returned. "Light the fire! Now!" My shouts pierced the dark, but though Gonbei's lips moved in sutra-chanting, no sound emerged.
The house groaned and shuddered through cycles of light and dark. I threw a futon over my younger brother.
"I must light a fire," I resolved, emerging from the mosquito net. My hands grasped the shoji lattice—but though I strained against it, the door refused to yield from without.
Even when I splintered the wooden framework, it held fast.
Planting my foot on a veranda pillar, I heaved with all my strength—the lattice shattered outward as invisible claws seized my shoulders and obi with a vicious yank.
Across the raised garden platform loomed a darkness vast as five oxen. Within it flickered elongated eyes like upright fans—their torch-like glow vanishing to leave pitch void. From this abyss emerged a hirsute arm thick as a man's torso, dragging me soundlessly toward the veranda's edge. The pillar creaked in protest as house and foundation shuddered against this supernatural pull.
"Bring me a sword!" I roared—but neither Gonbei nor neighbors came.
Sweat drenched my body like wrung cloth. Though I braced against the wall with my right arm—its surface now bristling like moss-clad stone—I found no purchase.
The spectral force redoubled—fabric tore at my shoulder as my obi snapped. I fell backward but sprang up instantly, snatching the sword from my bedside to strike. The blade met only air as glowing eyes retreated beneath floorboards with papery rustling.
I crawled partially under the floorboards but realized lateral strikes would prove futile. Vaulting upward to pierce through tatami mats instead, I found only my brother's sleeping mat remained—all others vanished.
Though I thrust repeatedly through floor planks, I struck only earth until Gonpachi arrived bare-bladed: "What devilry occurs here?"
Your cries of "Light the fire! Bare steel!" rang clear," Gonbei later recounted, "yet when I returned from practice and hung my net, no fear gripped me—until a one-eyed boy of ten circled me thrice with white bowl in hand. Terror struck then: 'I must reach you!' Yet when I grasped my dagger, paralysis seized my limbs—your shouts echoing through my quarters while I lay helpless."
"I yearned to come," he continued, "but found myself trapped until your commotion ceased and movement returned." When he asked what transpired, I deflected: "That tale must wait."
"Gonbei had begged nightly to share my net," I explained later. "Before settling him, I chanted sutras—called endlessly for fire and blade—yet received no answer."
"With every tatami gone—no mats in kitchen or bedchamber—light the tinder! Find where he lies!" The struck flame revealed three mats piled beneath garden eaves.

When they lifted the tatami mats, beneath them lay what appeared to be a charred corpse lying facedown. Gonpachi hoisted it up and attempted to administer water by wiping its face and trying to pour it into the mouth, but the teeth remained clenched and the jaw would not open. Using a dagger to pry apart the teeth, Gonpachi blew water into the mouth. Though a small amount trickled down the throat, before long—despite managing to get liquid inside—the figure remained dazed and uttered nothing.
Thereupon, Gonpachi found the tatami mats, pulled them one ken away, and—expressing grave concern about what lay within—returned.
Dawn soon broke. As I had been unable to sleep since nightfall, I lay down briefly. Gradually, Gonbei regained his senses and approached. Though unaware of the details, he reported the disturbance. When I ordered, “Notify Lord Shinpachi,” the Nakayama clan arrived. After explaining the situation, Gendayu—astonished at Shinpachi—hurried over, followed by the rest of the household members in succession.

Now then—even should Gonbei immediately request leave—if a replacement be arranged，I shall grant it.
The younger brother was entrusted unto Nakayama.
He sent Gonbei to an inn ere duskfall and bade him return at dawn’s first light.

Now then, though all urged that I too should join the rest of the household, I found myself unable to comply.
To fear some trifling matter and abandon my house—with others' talk being truly regrettable—I declared that I alone would not venture beyond these walls.
As Shinpachi too had fallen ill, he was soon conveyed again to Nakayama.
The remaining household members who had gathered that day gradually returned to their homes.
Gonbei had maintained his daily commute for some three days, but having pleaded illness, now ceased attending altogether.
From that time onward, with Gonpachi himself preparing each meal diligently, he dwelled in solitude.
The comings and goings of others merit no detailed account.

1. Now then, on the second night—when I lit the lantern—the flames gradually lengthened. Before long they rose above the frame, tapering into slender threads four or five shaku long, then instantly reached the ceiling and burned it entirely away.
Sparks and embers scattered; they reached the roof and smoldered faintly. "This lantern fire must be transformation work," I thought, resolving not to panic even should flames reach my body. Convinced that if this were real, people outside would surely raise an alarm, I left it untouched—whereupon shortly, everything reverted to its original ceiling state.
After retiring to my sleeping quarters, a putrid stench intensified violently. Water blew into my ears as the mosquito net, futon, sleeping mat, and tatami became thoroughly drenched. Yet I fell asleep almost immediately amidst it all.
When dawn broke and I looked about, the foul stench had vanished without trace, leaving every surface soaked through with water.

1. Now then, on the third night—having earlier replaced the tatami surface due to the pillar at the base of the storehouse corner—I aligned the tatami edges properly and trimmed their corners.
I placed the tatami mat in the corner of the living room, but from the gap at its edge emerged strands of hair that gradually grew longer until exceeding four shaku in length—whereupon a woman’s severed neck was pulled out by its hair, the severed end facing upward as the hair split into three parts and walked using its tresses.
With a distant sound like tatami being struck, it gradually approached where I sat. When I observed closely, its jaw curved backward about four or five sun long, triangular eyes fixed with black pupils, its color indescribable. As it came before me—appearing too uncanny—I thought to seize it before it could touch my body, and lunged to grasp it. But it vanished instantly, only to reappear behind in its prior form. Leaving it unattended, I saw it spread its hair, resting the severed neck stump on its knees with the cut surface facing upward—its weight like a millstone placed there.
I crossed my arms, clenched my teeth, and resisted—but then from there, it flew to my shoulder, wrapped me in its hair, split each strand one by one, and moved.
Just as I resolved to cut it, it thrust out a tongue from its side and began slobbering over my eyes and face.
Gradually slobbering over every inch of my face with its wet tongue, then from there licking up along the upper part of my neck.
Just as I thought to twist away from that tongue, it gradually lengthened, winding behind my teeth to lick every inch from the base of my throat down to my lower back, then scattering from there. When I threw the mosquito net over myself, a green gourd descended from the ceiling—elongating and growing slimy—until finally I fell asleep.

1. Now then, on the evening of the fourth day—thinking to build a fire for tea—I attempted to draw water from the jar, but found it frozen solid and immovable.
Even when I tried to grasp the kettle lid, it wouldn’t open.
I went down into the garden and found the irrigation water had frozen; even when overturned, it wouldn’t spill.
From there, thinking to build a fire under the tea kettle, I tried to light the kindling, but when I attempted to blow on it with the blowpipe, my breath proved too weak.
When I peered through and looked ahead, though there was a hole, it did not respond to the fire.
When I blew into my palm, the wind merely struck my hand; as this did not make the tea boil, I had no choice but to serve watery tea—tasteless.
So I lay down, but the fifteen sheets of tissue paper that had been by my pillow were soaked through with dew and scattered about. In time, I fell asleep.
When morning came and I looked, the decorated paper screens, sliding doors, and walls were stuck fast.

1. Now then, on the evening of the fifth day—upon the raised floor of the front room—there lay a red stone from beside Shindo Stone Bridge that would require eight or nine men to embrace.
2. Wherever I looked across its surface, countless eyes had sprouted and fingers multiplied.
3. Using those fingers they came tumbling toward me—rolling ever forward as I moved into the kitchen and up to the wooden-floored entryway’s threshold—but when I kicked them down with my foot, invisible smoke billowed mightily until bedtime. Though I slept through that night come morning it lay again in the kitchen garden.

1. Sixth Day: Nightly, crowds gathered beside the main gate—there was the sound of people sweeping and tatami mats being laid out—prompting the magistrate’s office to summon Shinpachi and issue an edict to the townspeople and samurai households: henceforth, such disturbances were forbidden.
As for those deemed deeply loyal who provide assistance, they may act at their discretion.
Even if household members still wish to come, they may do so without hindrance—today, an official edict has been issued.
From that night onward, the occurrences of tatami mats rising ceased.
That same night, after dusk, I went to attend to business at the front hut and returned—but at the hut’s entrance, a four-shaku-wide opening was entirely filled by an old woman’s grimacing face, barring passage.
Thinking to change location, I turned back—from the stepping stones to the hut, there were eleven stepping stones.
Even though it was raining, as I came in straw sandals, the stepping stones were positioned directly in front of the hut entrance.
When I proceeded straight there, surely filling the four-shaku-wide entrance was the aforementioned face, which would not permit passage.
The face bore appropriately placed eyes, nose, and mouth—though two hollows resembling blackened sockets—its warmth human-like yet unmoving however one pushed against it. I retreated inside, took up my short sword's dagger, and though striking it repeatedly from every angle, could not make it yield.
I then retrieved a suitably sized stone from around the hand-washing basin, switched the dagger to my left hand, gripped the stone in my right, and struck between its two eyes with full force. Though the blade naturally slid toward the eye socket, I hammered it deeper until even the hilt sank in. When I released my grip and looked, the face stood there more defiantly than ever—utterly bloodless, wholly unchanged.
Not long after that, I hung and lowered the mosquito net, but there was a corpse at my feet that had turned cold, so I stomped down on it repeatedly with my right foot.
The left foot was beneath the corpse.
I stomped with my right foot, but it did not budge.
I placed my right leg over the corpse and attempted to lie down, but the corpse—starting from the foot—immediately slid between my thighs.
Its coldness was like ice.
Eventually, I lay down and fell asleep.
The next morning brought no further incidents. Wondering where I had left the dagger from last night, I first went to check the hut entrance. There, in the spot where I had placed it, the dagger hung suspended in midair as if by an invisible thread. Yet it also appeared wedged into a crack in the pillar. As I observed—realizing it occupied precisely the same position as that accursed face—the blade fell with a clink onto the stepping stone below.

1. Now then, on the evening of the seventh day, Shōdayū borrowed what was called Monk Taidō’s ritual staff and brought it.
Truly, if one were to swing this upward and strike its base, no transformed being—however formidable—could draw near; their retreat would be a wonder to behold.
Therefore, he stated that he had borrowed it for this purpose.
Furthermore, Jinzaemon had borrowed the famed bow dedicated to Hachiman and was holding it.
"When this bow is strung taut as a toad’s eye and its string resounds," declared someone—which Gonpachi heard while seated there—"no demons can exist within seven ri in all directions." Therefore, since no transformed beings could remain within the household—they would surely emerge initially and retreat toward the southern main entrance—"As I hold this spear, a keepsake of such transformations, I shall immediately impale them. Therefore, I shall first take the spear outside and await them." With that, Gonpachi took the bare spear and went out.
Now then, Shōdayū swung up the ritual staff and struck the tatami—producing in the air a sound identical to its impact.
He struck again, producing an identical sound in midair.
A third strike produced an identical sound—all three now matching perfectly.
Then, as Jinzaemon drew his bow and made the string resound—another identical sound echoed—a black mass appeared above the main gate within Gonpachi’s sight. Thinking "This is it!", he thrust his spear—but the blade glanced off without piercing—and as the spear was seized, the weapon tore through the paper screen, grazed the bow held by Jinzaemon, and embedded itself in the kitchen’s decorated wall.
Thereupon, Gonpachi turned back and, upon seeing the black mass, attempted to impale it—but the grip of his spear slipped loose, and as the spear was seized, he retreated with a gasp. Everyone fell into despondency.
Deeming nothing could be done, around midnight, they all returned.

1. On the same eighth night, six people were present, sitting in a circle, when a salt bag from beneath the ceiling drifted down and fell into their midst.
Then wooden clogs emerged from beneath the ceiling—from a corner where part of the wall had crumbled—descended slightly at the next lintel, rose higher again from there, and clamped onto paper in the following storage closet. When everyone saw this, they all returned home. Upon sleeping thereafter, the mosquito net turned pure white and undulated like waves.

On the ninth night, nothing occurred until just before four o'clock. Thinking "Perhaps they would not emerge tonight," I started when someone unlatched the door from outside the roji alley—a door that could only be opened from within by household members or trusted regular visitors. Finding it suspicious that anyone would be present so late, I called out, to which came the reply: "It is Shōdayū." Believing a malefactor had come, I urged "You should retire now," whereupon he revealed he had brought his family's heirloom sword whose provenance was well-known.

When he had asked his elder brother for it, the brother refused to lend it out. Therefore, Shōdayū retrieved the chest key from the pillow box, opened the storage undetected, and took possession of the blade.

"With this," he declared from the garden, "tonight I shall slay the monster and demonstrate this guardian sword's marvels."

"I declare—this cannot be achieved through mere blades."

Though I repeatedly implored him—"You must withdraw at once!"—this Shōdayū, being a reckless man of mercurial temperament unlike ordinary folk who might commit any rash act, had already mounted the veranda. He threw open the western shoji screen and stepped inside, only to be knocked aside as a black creature the size of a small dog came tumbling into the depths.

Again when Shōdayū tried to enter, a stone-like black entity struck him back—two of them now tumbling about wildly. Undeterred, he rushed inside, untied the crimson cord from the brocade bag containing his guardian sword, drew forth the blade wrapped in its braided hilt-cord, and made to pursue the rolling creatures. Though I seized his sleeve and urgently restrained him, he shook me off and charged onward. From his position, Shōdayū gradually cornered the rightward-tumbling entity at the kitchen's edge. When he swung up the sword in a single strike and cut it down, flames burst forth—yet one creature remained.

He pursued the last until it collided with a paper lantern and was cornered in a nook. As he raised his blade and struck—sparks scattering—this too I witnessed.

"There! Both apparitions are cut down!"

"Hurry—light a fire!" Shōdayū demanded. When we kindled flames and examined what he had felled in the front corner, it proved to be a millstone's upper grindstone.

Thus the emergence of flames was only natural.

Moreover, what lay cut down in the kitchen corner was another millstone.

Now then—because this famed blade had struck stone—when Shōdayū inspected it by lantern light, he found the edge entirely chipped with three deep notches along its ridge, rendering it useless. Greatly distraught, he cried: "This sword—neither my house nor I can replace it!"

"Though I entreated them earnestly to lend what has been passed down through generations of ancestors, they refused. Thinking only to defeat your monster here, I stole and concealed it—yet now that it's ruined beyond repair, how bitterly I resent you!"

"If I tell my parents of this matter, I will surely be executed on the spot."

"As for my elder brother—being inherently spiteful—it would be no different."

"Moreover they berated me relentlessly, confiscated the oil lamp, and since execution looms—'I shall end myself here now!'" He twisted the dagger about.

"I declare—this is grossest folly! Confess plainly how you stole it and beg forgiveness!"

"Though I said I would properly atone—again and again—I resent you."

"In truth—my intent to slay the monster and bring peace by stealing this blade has rebounded upon you—making my hatred burn ever fiercer!"

"I declare—this is profoundest error! Had you requested me to present this sword properly beforehand, there would be no cause for rancor. Yet I cannot prevail through mere steel."

“Though you restrained me in every way, I broke free and confronted it—just as I declared earlier! But from that moment onward, I could endure no longer.” Fumbling with my short sword—‘If I draw it, I’ll end this’—I stared at its guard… when suddenly, that famous sword transformed into a coarse bamboo broom before me and pierced straight through my throat! I fell backward, writhing in agony.”

“I quickly retreated about five steps back, but realizing there was no saving me now, I soon breathed my last.”

By now it had reached the Hour of the Boar, yet no resolution was in sight—I resolved matters would never settle themselfs naturally through ordinary means.

This state of affairs could not be left as it was here.

Moreover, there must be sound judgment.

Opening the storage room and flinging up the wicker trunk, I carried Shōdayū and shoved him inside.

Now then, when I thought carefully—my gouging him out could not be called self-destruction.

Even were it said I gouged him to death, there would be no point.

I could no longer go on living, I thought, but drawing my short sword only filled me with unbearable frustration.

Since this was unavoidable, I resolved that if Shōdayū were now sought after, I would cut shallowly through the skin below my navel—declaring “My life ends here”—narrating each detail of how I gouged him out before committing suicide.

If it were someone else, I would not know.

Since it was someone from Kageyama, I had them wait at the gate and entered inside.

Though I had already discarded one life, to now cling to it and attempt suicide—truly, this was resentment spanning seven lifetimes.

When he cried in an anguished voice—“Die quickly!”—just as I had reported earlier: he had stolen his family’s renowned blade without my request, cut through a millstone in parental retribution, and with the sword rendered useless—leaving no justification—committed suicide with that very blade.

I lunged forward and grappled with the ghost until the sound of Myōeiji Temple’s evening bell reached my ears—dawn was approaching—the stepping stones of Yoshimura came into view ahead as walls became visible.

When daybreak finally arrived, I entered the house to find Shōdayū’s body gone from the storage room—only the wicker trunk remained.

Truly, this was a perilous situation.
From that time onward, I came to view even those of true sincerity as suspect.

On the same tenth day—Suōya Sadahachi of Tōkaichi Town’s sumo stable—was passing his evening when peering beneath his kitchen threshold split its upper portion cleanly; from within crawled an infant clinging fast about him.
About ten emerged now here now there—bloodstained infants crawling everywhere.
This Sadahachi stood fifty-bale strong—a red-faced colossus crowned with golden-mosquito pate.
While these babes crawled hither-thither—as I entered my mosquito-netted bedchamber—the tenfold swarm coalesced into one great eyeball within whose orb I fell asleep.

On the night of the eleventh, approximately thirteen people who brought peace of mind to the household gathered. Though I repeatedly urged from within the household for everyone to assemble together, they remained dispersed. Resolving to persuade them all to convene in one place, they agreed to gather—but someone declared: “Given recent events, should anything occur tonight, we must not draw our swords or short swords against each other. Let us all secure our blades and converse while wearing them.” As everyone settled into this arrangement, Hikonojo arrived accompanied by someone named Nagakura—unaware of their prior agreement—and sat in the adjacent room with his sword drawn and short sword at the ready. When someone exclaimed, “Ah! Even here, a drawn blade!”, I said to Ichidayu, who sat beside the threshold where swords had been set aside: “I have placed my sword there. With all due respect, please move that blade aside.” Ichidayu immediately turned backward and elongated himself. When he grasped the sword with his hand—it met his palm chillingly—he perceived the blade had been drawn unbeknownst to him.

When someone grabbed the tsuba and examined it, finding only the blade remained unsheathed, they passed it to Hikonojo. Hikonojo and the others lost interest, suggesting, “The scabbard must be around here.” Dimming the lights, they searched everywhere to no avail. After placing the bare blade before them, a while later—the paper medicine bags and other hanging pouches on the ceiling suddenly stirred—and from among them, the missing scabbard dropped down.

They promptly picked it up, sheathed it, and took Nagakura back from there, after which everyone returned at once.

When I lay down thereafter, there was a shelf above the garden walkway with a mortar hung up. It flew down, and the pestle that had been hooked under the shelf’s lattice entered the mortar, grinding around various places until eventually I fell asleep.

1. Then, on the twelfth day at noon, Ueda Jirōemon came and wrote demon-warding talismans, affixing them atop the four pillars. Then again, past eight in the evening, the chief priest of Saikōji arrived and said: "This is a sacred seal inscribed by Yakushi Nyorai's own hand—a priceless relic. However, as it may serve your needs, come to my residence tomorrow with someone to retrieve it. Note that I shall be absent then." Therefore, I informed the storehouse staff to receive it accordingly.
Having reported the matter and seen the talismans posted in four directions, I recognized those talismans had been written by Mr. Ueda.
Though they were fine demon-warding talismans, since the characters differed in two places, I resolved to rewrite them. Retrieving the inkstone, I wrote four sheets and pasted them over Jirōemon’s original talismans. When the Saikōji priest departed, I sent an escort with him. Upon reentering the house, I found no talismans written by the priest—only those by Mr. Ueda remained, now marked at their centers and all four sides with interlocking wheel patterns.
It was truly a walk of some six or seven ken.
Thereafter, before the Hour of the Dog at night, I entered the sleeping quarters beneath the mosquito net when Shōdayū’s wicker trunk—left stacked there earlier—burst through the sliding paper door. Though retaining its trunk-like form initially, it sprouted limbs at the front and transformed into a hulking toad that crawled around the mosquito net’s perimeter. It then crept inside and climbed atop where I lay sleeping. Reaching up from below, I seized the cord binding the trunk and eventually fell asleep clutching it—only to find come morning that nothing remained but the trunk collapsed by my pillow.

1. On the thirteenth day, before dusk, Nagakura the hunter from Hihara arrived along with six others from the household. When I went with Nagakura to borrow the Yakushi seal from Saikōji Temple, the thicket at Kizemoto's residence stirred. From it emerged a black object the size of a small barrel that targeted my forehead. I slashed with my sword while glaring white-eyed, whereupon it struck Nagakura standing behind me in the chest.
Nagakura collapsed instantly. As he suffered extraordinary chest pain and could not move, I let him lean on my shoulder, brought him inside, and reported the circumstances to everyone.
Alone, I went again to retrieve it, and brought back together the red stone that had struck Nagakura's chest.

1. Then, on the fourteenth day, past the Hour of the Dog—though no one was pounding—the empty mortar in the shed pounded alone.
Now, during this time when there were no borrowers for the mortar—and here too, since I was alone and required no rice to be pounded—how came the mortar to be pounding? When I went to the shed to look, there on the mortar’s pestle lay straw bags, rope, and a burlap sack, which it pounded just as they were.
Since it showed no sign of ceasing, even when I gripped the pestle, it adhered to me as well.
When I took out the black rice and put in about seven or eight shō, the mortar began pounding with a changed sound—thud after thud.
After it pounded for some time, I feared it might grind the rice into powder. Though I tried to remove the rice, as the pestle kept striking down relentlessly, I could not retrieve it. When I detached the pestle from the mortar and set it aside, the pounding ceased. Upon lifting out the rice to examine it, not a single grain showed any damage.
That night, before eight in the evening, I hung a mosquito net and slept.
When I looked up at the ceiling, it was filled with old women's faces; their tongues pushed through the mosquito net to lick my face.
When I pressed my hand to my face, they licked through it.
The tongues appeared broad at the base and tapered toward the tip.
I fell asleep amidst the licking.

1. Then, around eight in the evening on the fifteenth day, I hung a mosquito net and entered it, whereupon the entire net turned white like crashing waves. From that moment, the tatami mats turned white, then the bedding and straw mats turned white, quivering like konjac jelly.
Amidst this, I fell asleep.

1. Then, around the Hour of the Snake on the sixteenth day, while I was heading toward the bathhouse, Kageyama Shōdayū and Waki Zenroku arrived. “There was a thud right there in the front,” they reported.
2. After they summoned me—though three statements were made I only heard one—I stepped up and removed the frame’s securing nail. Mouse droppings and debris spilled out from within, revealing through them the fallen sheath of my retainer Gonbei’s short sword.
3. As night fell thereafter, Kimata Bangoro, Tsuda Ichirōemon, and Uchida Genjirō arrived. Though official notices had been issued during this period, given our particularly close relationship—“You may claim to sleep soundly,” they thought, “but in truth you cannot rest as desired”—the three conferred: “Tonight let us three keep watch together to hasten your slumber.” Having thoroughly fortified themselves with sake at Ichirōemon’s residence, they declared: “We shall attend to matters here without burdening you—retire early.” To this they gradually gave assent.
4. However, since I lie down well every night, first I shall speak of that evening.
5. I must lie down quickly thereafter.
6. However, thinking first to prepare tea for the bath, I lit the bath charcoal and hung the kettle. When the tea would not brew, Bangoro declared, “I shall prepare it,” and made the tea.
7. Incidentally, as I intended to prepare roasted snacks and took out beans and rice in abundance—roasting them and placing them into a large tiered box while the tea was soon ready—just as everyone in the kitchen had finished and risen, a hissing blast of sound followed by a thudding crash was heard. When the three men were astonished by this, I said: “What? Do not be alarmed by such a trifle.”
8. First adjusting the lantern’s flame, when I looked there was a white object the size of a pearl.
9. “Take that out and inspect it,” I said, but not a single person remained.
10. Thereupon, as I remained seated and grasped it—a slippery object forced into my hand—when examined closely by lantern light, its salty smell revealed it to be the bucket from two or three days prior: the one in which I had packed eggplants in abundance with bran for tonburi pickling and left fermenting in the shed.
11. When everyone had drunk their tea—mistaking it for part of the tea set—I had brought it along.
12. Taking out about five eggplants and washing them revealed all to be unappetizing; they refused to eat. Though I insisted they were properly pickled and even sampled some myself to demonstrate, they still would not partake.
13. After that, I thought to enter beneath the mosquito net—but my usual net proved too narrow for four people sitting and conversing—so I resolved to hang one in the front room. Taking out a large net, I hung and prepared it. Two retired first while I and another two adjusted the netting—yet however much we raised it, those inside complained it remained too low until we declared it could be hoisted no higher.
14. When we inspected the mosquito net’s ceiling closely and saw three men’s swords and short swords raised there, its lowness became inevitable.
15. “Until tomorrow,” I said, “entrust your swords to me.”
16. Intending to return them at their departure time tomorrow, I stored them in the sword chest—yet deeming it improper to leave Yakushi’s sacred seal hanging in sleeping quarters—I rolled it up, boxed it, and placed it within the Buddhist altar before entering my mosquito net myself—only for the desk left on the floor (still bearing its incense burner) to begin scraping around the net’s perimeter. They all gaped in astonishment—“What is this?!”—but it was merely another ordinary occurrence.
17. As they muttered there was nothing to discuss yet and no telling what might happen next—the incense burner alone entered the net and darted through air—ash raining into eyes until striking someone’s pillow and splitting in two—another man bolted outside barking gleefully over a sleeper’s head before something crawled into an ear—“Out with you!” they cried—leading all to wash their heads at the water station in tremendous uproar.
18. When dawn broke within that time, everyone returned.

That night, I was unable to sleep at all.

1. Then, on the seventeenth day at noon, Ishikawa Fumbē's wife—a woman named Kuu—arrived around the Hour of the Snake. Though Fumbē had been repeatedly entreated to pay his respects to you, being a timid soul he had yet to come himself. Therefore, she stated she had come in his stead to inquire after the situation.
As she spoke at the kitchen threshold, a washing tub rolled down from the shelf toward Kuu. She let out a scream and ran out barefoot—the tub came rushing after her.
I emerged from behind and called out; the tub halted. When I sat down, I retrieved it.
Kuu returned home immediately, still barefoot.

That night, after the Hour of the Dog had passed, about ten skewered objects resembling grilled snipes pierced through a small monk’s skylight—their tips protruding from heads as they flew upon the skewers. Two heads would join at one spot only to split apart again, twitching in a macabre dance before merging into one and transforming into a giant catfish. My... (text missing).

On the eighteenth day past eight o'clock in the evening—all tatami mats from front room hung from ceiling with fishing line.
Gonpachi came upon seeing; struck from below.
Once fell—drifted like clouds.
I stepped up intending take down; lowering [them], laid out.
When night fell—three-foot lengths suspended mid-air wherever went.
Amidst this—lay down.

1. Then, on the nineteenth day, Mukai Jirōemon—an official serving as ship magistrate—visited during daylight hours. He had gone to Lord Shinpachi's residence at that time, but prior to this, an apparition had appeared at the home of one Matsuo Tōsuke. Despite all manner of efforts, it would not cease. They therefore requested Hōgenji Temple to recite the Great Prajñā Sutra and perform exorcisms, but the sutra scrolls were rolled up into the air. Moreover, whenever Tōsuke summoned retainers from either front or rear quarters—wherever they went—if their master was present, the retainers would panic repeatedly. Hearing that Jūbei's household possessed a secret trap—one that had reportedly captured an old raccoon dog as large as a three-year-old horse—I wished to have Jūbei set this trap. When I proposed this matter to Lord Shinpachi, he replied: "That decision rests entirely with you."

When he came and reported the matter as instructed—and since I gave orders without requiring particular formalities—I therefore stated I would make a brief visit.

Since Shinpachi had also given his consent, if I were to make the request properly, he would immediately issue orders for Jūbei to come tonight.

"I will certainly bring provisions myself," I declared, "so prepare tea in an iron kettle with one teacup—no other arrangements are needed." Upon returning, from before seven o'clock that day, three workers brought large bamboo poles, oak stakes, and a box of thick ropes to make preparations belowground. They extracted from the box what appeared to be a tensioned bow-like device and secured the bamboo with ropes. When two workers finished installing it, they departed saying they would return early tomorrow with me. Jūbei remained behind holding his boar-piercing spear and laid out a straw mat in the bathhouse's front garden. Though nothing visible was present, he felt his face being stroked and nose pinched. Upon retreating into the bathhouse, the sensation still clung to the empty air unbearably.

When I entered the privy, a bearded hand suddenly groped my buttocks. Unable to endure it, I leapt out. "Truly—tonight I cannot remain in this house."

"Since I will come early in the morning and report," I said, "there is no possibility this trap will fail to catch it. Should it be caught, I request you tie this rope to that stake and leave it."

"Now," I added, "should sunlight fall upon this bow, it will become entirely useless. Though we would remain here quickly to attend to it naturally before any sunlight could reach it at dawn—I ask that you remove it from this place then." With this request made, I departed.

Then, not long after he lay down, the trap began rattling fiercely, with something seeming to dance atop it. Amidst this clamor, he fell asleep. When dawn broke and he rushed out to inspect, he found most large bamboo stakes pulled out and the specially placed bow vanished from its position. The rope had been coiled into a single bundle and discarded nearby. Arriving at the spot with Jūbei to report these developments, they concluded this alone would not suffice. First they searched under floorboards and gutters for the crucial bow—knowing sunlight would render it useless—but found nothing. With no other leads left, they peered up at the roof ridge only to realize the sun had already passed its zenith; noon beams now illuminated where morning light should have exposed it earlier. They retrieved it along with their tools and carried everything back.

1. Then, on the twentieth day just before nine in the morning, a voice called out in a woman’s tones; moreover, the recent visits by women were strange indeed.
The woman set aside her hesitation; thinking that even men would be too timid to approach our dwelling, she ventured forth suspiciously. There stood a beauty of sixteen or seventeen years, clad in a pale yellow patterned underkimono with a black obi, carrying a furoshiki bundle. “I come bearing a message from Lord Nakamura Heizaemon within the estate compound,” she declared.
“How terribly lonely your circumstances must be.”
“I shall present this,” she said, producing the furoshiki bundle from her right side before stepping back. “As I am partial to tobacco, might you permit me to prepare some?” Ascending to the veranda, she fitted a pipe to the round tobacco tray. “Though I make no claims about the smoke’s quality, there being ample tobacco here, please partake.” When she produced tobacco from the pouch, the furoshiki bundle remained placed before me. Amidst our conversation—her smoking tobacco and making sundry inquiries—upon closer inspection, from her attire to her fingertips and nail beds, she embodied perfection itself.
Since a woman of such standing resided here, there should be no need for formal introductions.
Moreover, as one from this district who must have heard of recent disturbances, it defied reason that any woman would visit our quarters.
I surmised she was the daughter of a respectable local farmer who had entered service in some household—likely dispatched with a message since her husband had business nearby. As I observed her posing various questions and even directing tobacco smoke toward me while maintaining an innocent demeanor, she announced, “I shall take my leave,” gesturing to the furoshiki bundle at her right. “As I am but a messenger, please accept these items as correspondence.” With that, she departed. Never had I witnessed such beauty in life. When I pursued her to the entranceway and peered out, she had vanished utterly—her destination unknowable.
Afterward, upon returning inside and unfastening the furoshiki bundle, I discovered a large tiered box filled with freshly made botamochi rice cakes, containing about two shaku measures of white sugar in one corner.
Having only prepared plain rice for supper and eaten nothing yet, I consumed most of these botamochi and consequently skipped the evening meal.
Then, about two months later, Waki Zenroku came to my residence. During our conversation, he scrutinized the tiered box and wrapping cloth from that incident placed before the storage closet. Unable to contain himself, he inquired: “Do those belong to your household?” When I confirmed they did not and explained the circumstances thoroughly, Zenroku declared: “Those appear most certainly to be my household’s tiered box and wrapping cloth.”
“On the twentieth day of last month, being the death anniversary of my mother’s grandfather on her side, though we had prepared rice cakes for her family home, we at least made botamochi to distribute to neighbors and send to relatives. For the portion bound for her family home, we added exceptional quantities of sugar and meant to dispatch it promptly. Yet both botamochi and box vanished completely. Though we searched everywhere, they remained unseen—most perplexing. Today upon visiting your residence and examining these items, I thought ‘Could these be they?’ and resolved to inquire with you first. When you disclaimed ownership, I was utterly confounded by this strangeness.” Having said this, he departed after vowing to retrieve the items later.
That night when I lay down at the usual hour, the mosquito net’s hanging cords fell from four points simultaneously; yet when we rose to rehang them, they fell again.
Though we rehung them repeatedly only to have them fall once more, I left them as they were and retired to sleep.

1. Then, on the night of the twenty-first when we lit the lantern, a human countenance manifested upon its surface and began delivering a lecture.
Though no voice sounded until sleep took us, [the apparition] repeatedly positioned volumes upon the lectern with spectral fingers directed toward both its visage and a hand mirror.

Then, on the 22nd day from around noon onward, the palm broom detached from midair and swept about the reception room before toppling over. It rose up again and swept four or five times across every corner—though there was not a speck of dust left to sweep—in this manner. After nightfall and retiring to bed, three loud noises were heard.
Their reverberation plunged beneath the floorboards.

On the twenty-third day at noon, while our neighbor Hirata Gozaemon was at Saikōji Temple engaged in correcting haikai compositions, someone went to observe. His retainer Gonbei had urgent business outside and locked the main gate from the exterior with a padlock. However, upon hearing of a great commotion within during their absence, they promptly summoned Gonbei back and informed him of the matter. Though he first attempted to unlock and open the door, it would not budge—the latch had been secured and a bolt driven from inside. Climbing over our side’s fence to bypass the main entrance, he returned to find the doorway padlocked and the bolt hammered firmly into place. After frantically removing these obstructions, he peered inside to discover every book strewn about and twenty full place settings of dining trays and bowls laid out—down to the chopsticks—all arranged while Gozaemon was away. As they gathered and restored these items to their original state, the ceiling suddenly swelled outward. Gonbei leapt up and stabbed it with his short sword, then showed me a glue-like substance that clung to the blade.

When I looked closely, it was not glue but wet rust that had adhered.

That night when I lay down to sleep, several beehives descended from the ceiling, and yellow bubbles blew forth from their holes.

Amidst this, I fell asleep.

Then, on the 24th day around nine-thirty in the morning, a butterfly approximately four shaku (~1.2 meters) in size entered from outside and flew about various places—whereupon it fragmented into smaller butterflies each spanning roughly five steps (~7.5 meters). After that, they vanished without a trace.

When night fell and I entered the sleeping quarters, the paper lantern transformed into a stone pagoda emitting a blue flame.

1. Then, on the evening of the twenty-fifth day, I had business at the hut.
Thinking not to go, I descended from the veranda. When I stepped onto the stepping stone, there lay a dead person upon it.
The corpse—swollen from alcohol vapors with skin peeling as if long decayed, cold enough to chill the crown of a skylight—I attempted to leap away, but the skin of its belly adhered to the soles of my feet and would not part.
When I tried freeing my left foot with my right—though one foot peeled away as if scraping off something adhesive—both feet together would not detach in the slightest.
Meanwhile, only the corpse's eyes stirred with life.
The sound of their blinking resembled wood-boring insects burrowing dully through timber.
Again planting both feet firmly and attempting to leap away with one foot, I found both limbs fused to the corpse—together we flew through the air. Chilled to the marrow by this development and utterly confounded, no desperate measure could sever us. Retreating to the original stepping stone, I slumped onto the veranda edge until drowsiness overcame me; using the threshold as a pillow, I fell asleep.
When dawn broke and I looked, there was nothing to be seen.

1. Then, on the evening of the 26th day around five o'clock, wooden clacking sounds arose beneath the floorboards. A woman's head emerged into midair; rotating from within that space, it descended in coiling motions measuring seven or eight sun in width and two ken in length. As the head flew about hither and thither through the air, that writhing mass attached itself to me—a chill beyond all comparison. The head coiled around me, refusing detachment like living entrails squirming relentlessly.
Paying no heed to this, he entered the mosquito net and lay down.

Then, on the 27th day past four in the afternoon, the outer wall turned yellowish-black; then white—as though a curtain were being drawn.
The disturbances ceased after nine o'clock.

When night fell, a wooden clapper's sound rang through the air, its reverberations seeping beneath the floorboards. He then entered the mosquito net, where a woman's voice at once released a drawn-out sigh. The resonance settled beneath the floorboards. Amidst it all, he fell asleep.

1. Then, from six o'clock on the evening of the 28th day, three komusō monks—soundlessly pressing shakuhachi flutes to their lips in unison—proceeded ahead in groups of three. Within their ranks hung a mosquito net; yet when I lay down to sleep, the net was pulled inward—suddenly there it hovered above me.
Amidst this, I fell asleep.

Then, on the 29th day, from morning onward the wind blew.
The wind blew ceaselessly inward—from the west, from the east, from the south, and from the north.
From evening onward, it blew starlight inside and continued gusting into every corner with the same thickness as seen from below.
Amidst this, I lay down.

1. Then, on the month’s end, even as the fifth hour of night arrived without incident, I began to think all possible disturbances had been exhausted—waiting in anticipation for something to manifest. Around half past five, when no sound came from the main gate opening, the garden door unlatched itself. The moment it swung open, every last shoji screen at the front flew wide. There stood a rigidly square-jawed man beneath the lintel, clad in a pale yellow patterned kimono and wearing swords, who declared: “Having long intruded upon your residence to wreak havoc, I now assume this human guise to offer explanation—thus have I come.”

His form had now been made clear.

Intending to launch a surprise strike, I stepped forward next, drew my short sword and hid it behind me. Recalling that such shape-shifting creatures must be cut from the middle downward, I pretended to sit slightly turned away, then swept the tatami with a slashing strike—yet found only empty air. Truly, this was no being to be felled by mere blades.

After I sheathed my blade, a voice declared, “Now then, you must hear the full account of the prolonged disturbances I have wrought.” It sounded like stones clashing together—an ear-piercing voice.

After that, I too calmed down, put away my short sword in the back room, and went to wait at the front thinking he might emerge now. There was a hearth slightly off-center, containing a small amount of ash.

The lid had been tightly fastened, but when opened with a clatter—as if prying apart books—the small amount of ash inside swelled instantly into an abundance. Soon it filled the space completely, obscuring visibility with opposing ash until it rose near the ceiling. I pressed my hands and knees into the ash as though crushing clods of earth—it burst apart with a crack. In its wake emerged the head of a blue monk festering within that space, crowned with Chinese-style hair and bearing a low wart spanning one shaku six or seven sun across—a neck now protruded from within the hearth.

The jagged head—its eyes glinting like a dragonfly’s—bore hues of iridescence. Beneath the floorboards, a fire roared to life with unnatural vigor, filling the underfloor space with clamor akin to frantic shouts of “Yare! Build it higher!” As flames swelled in intensity, the head flushed crimson. Soon it bulged into a tumorous mass from which foaming bubbles erupted, their boiling overflow disgorging earthworms that squirmed forth from its depths.

In but a moment, earthworms crawled forth in a terrifying swarm, creeping across the tatami mats toward my side.

I have an extreme aversion to earthworms—even a single glance at them turns my stomach—and resolved not to let these crawling things touch my body. Though I tried flicking them off with my fingernails, their sheer numbers meant they swiftly clung to the backs of my hands.

From there, they clung to my entire body without respite, leaving me no choice but to clench my hands and endure with gritted teeth. As I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the onslaught, the moment they reverted to their original state, the man who had first appeared—still clad in formal attire with swords at his waist—manifested once more in his initial position. Truly, this was a most astonishing turn of events.

“I came to Japan after making a vow at Izumo Grand Shrine and receiving divine pardon, returning after three years—I am the Demon King of the Three Thousand Worlds.”

“Outside exists another who does not fall short of me.”

“Since both are demon kings, there can be no hierarchy—neither can be placed above nor below the other.”

“Therefore, since humans are sovereign over all creation, when among them one of particularly refined spirit is born, upon their sixteenth year I employ supernatural power to transform them diversely and strip away their sanity.”

“I have caused all hundred individuals to lose their sanity and firmly vowed to elevate myself above.”

“I am he who goes by the pseudonym Yamamoto Tarōzaemon.”

“As for a demon king like myself—he goes by the pseudonym Shino Akutarō.”

“Now then, when I say I await and deceive people who have reached sixteen years of age—it is because those of sixteen or seventeen possess no particular discernment, thus lacking any capacity for forethought or reflection.”

“When a person’s soul turns good, it is at sixteen; when it turns bad, also at sixteen; and demons too are said to be sixteen.”

“Therefore, I corrupt those of sixteen years.”

“I must confess to deception,” he declared, “yet until now—having twice traversed Tang, India, and Japan—of a hundred souls, eighty-five I corrupted without particular exertion of power, stripping them of reason as I pleased. But against Your Excellency, though I exhausted my secret techniques, never could I prevail.”
“To my astonishment,” he continued, “having encountered Your Excellency and failed to fulfill my great ambition—forced now to serve beneath Akutarō—how bitterly vexing this is!” He glared at me with contemptuous eyes and ground his teeth in a manner I shall never forget.

When I looked across, there loomed a figure five sun taller than my position—crowned, clad in ceremonial robes, ritual scepter in hand—to whom I had largely responded as Tarōzaemon declared his piece. Yet when I twisted to observe him properly, he had vanished.
He appeared shadow-like.
"Now, when I first crossed over to Japan, it was during the time of the Genpei clans. To think that despite all this, I must serve beneath Akutarō—how bitterly vexing!" he declared.
Again, he ground his teeth fiercely.
"As for Akutarō—possessing his own supernatural power and intending to deceive Your Excellency—whether even a one-in-a-thousand chance exists remains unknown."
"Though he may exist, there exists no form superior to me."
“Yet no matter what stratagems I devise, you remain unshaken—though I exhaust my secret techniques, my efforts appear but half-measures before you.”
“If I remain even a day or two longer, I shall truly lose my supernatural power and fall into Your Excellency’s hands. Therefore, having offered apology for my prolonged disturbances, I shall depart this very night.”
“However, should that Akutarō come hereafter, if Your Excellency strikes the veranda of the southwestern room as you wish with this mallet, I shall emerge immediately. By drawing upon Your Excellency’s might, Akutarō will assuredly lose his supernatural power without doubt.”
“Furthermore, should Your Excellency act with utmost diligence and strike the veranda in the aforementioned manner,” he declared while brandishing the mallet from unseen quarters, “you shall assuredly escape calamity without doubt. However, this matter must not be revealed to anyone within fifty years without fail.”
"Your Excellency alone must not show this to even relatives within fifty years."
“Assuredly, during this period—even unto those most intimate acquaintances—ensure they divulge nothing to others. Only after a hundred days have passed may Your Excellency relay the account.”
When I requested leave to depart and declared that confirmation should be granted—immediately proceeding to the spot—he slightly crouched from over there, and I too crouched.
The moment his head was pressed down as if a rock had been placed upon it, it would not budge at all.
Amidst this clamor resembling temple bells and many running footsteps arising around us, sweat poured from my whole body as I struggled to rise. Planting my knees and gradually extending my legs forward while bending my head down—when I finally rose—there appeared around me upon the hut’s roof large-headed beasts with elongated square skulls walking through air like men, their waists wrapped in tattered cloths and some holding long multicolored objects.
The number of those beastly creatures was beyond reckoning.
From their midst emerged a large palanquin placed upon the veranda which Yamamoto Tarōzaemon immediately boarded—a bearded foot spanning one ken and half a to protruding past my nose from within before withdrawing instantly.
Immediately lifted aloft, they proceeded straight ahead; something resembling a hanging lantern—its flame visible first—swirled through air toward the southwestern room before vanishing into clouds like a lantern.

From there, naturally wondering if it wasn’t a dream, he marked the veranda with his fingernails, opened the shoji screens and left them as they were, then immediately entered the mosquito net. Before long, as night broke, the claw marks on the veranda were clearly visible, and the shoji screens remained open.
At the place where Yamamoto Tarōzaemon had been, since he had left behind that mallet, he worried that someone might see it. He wrapped it in scraps of persimmon-tanned paper and buried it deep in a corner of the hut.
Truly, I am not one to be trifled with.
The Lotus Sutra exists through the grace of Japan’s Buddhas and deities.
How profoundly grateful!

Inō Budayu

The above direct writing:

Kōka 1 (1844), Monkey-Dragon Year: Deposited at Kokuzenshi Temple from Shōzan.

Record of the Mallet’s Whereabouts

1. Kan'en 2, Year of the Snake, Seventh Month's End: From the seventh hour of night through the sixth hour within; recorded.

1. On August 3 of the same year, he placed it in a box and buried it in the corner of the hut.
2. Within fifty years, he must never speak of or show it to anyone.
3. Thereafter, having thoroughly secured one most trusted outsider to prevent disclosure, he relayed the account after a hundred days had passed.

1. On the Fourth Day of the Fourth Month in Hōreki 3, Year of the Rooster [1753], having been dispatched to that place for official temple gate assistance duties, [he] dug it up, wrapped it securely, placed it in the bottom of a basket, and carried it along.

1. On the fourteenth day of the Eleventh Month of the same year, he returned to Miyoshi. Due to taking up residence at Nakayama Gendayu's household, he placed it into a thick box and buried it in a western area—an open space devoid of vegetable gardens.

1. On the eleventh day of the Second Month in the Year of the Dog [1749], due to relocating to Kawada Mozaemon's residence, he similarly placed it into a box and buried it deep by the northern fence of Komai Sagoroemon's property.

On the 14th Day of the Twelfth Month in the 8th Year of the Tiger [1749], due to relocating from Miyoshi to the castle town: Having wrapped [the artifact] securely in layered cloth and had porters carry it along with tools, he proceeded to Kabe. By downstream boat he visited Takabashi Saemon of Ichinoki, then shortly thereafter rented lodgings at Fujidaya Heiji's leased residence in the same area.
For the time being, he wrapped it in persimmon-tanned paper and buried it beneath the floor.

1. On the 25th day of the Second Month in the Ninth Year of the Hare [1759], due to completed construction at the Rokuchōme granted estate: [He] relocated, dug deeply north of the Buddhist altar room, placed [it] in a box, stored [it] within a jar, sealed [it] with thick planks, and covered [it] with abundant soil.

1. On the 13th Day of the 12th Month in the 8th Year of An'ei [1779], due to the spread of fire and having overlooked the artifact, he requested lodging at Shimokabeya Denushichi Ura Zashiki. On the 14th day of the same month, he went to the Rokuchōme fire site, excavated and retrieved the mallet, wrapped it in oil paper, and buried it beneath a rock at the southern artificial hill.

1. On the 23rd Day of the Fourth Month in the Ninth Year of the Dog [1759], due to completed construction at Rokuchōme: He relocated. On the 25th day of the same month, northward beneath the threshold, he placed the foundation box inside a jar, sealed it with a lid, and buried it under thick soil.

1. On the 17th day of the seventh month, Kyōwa 1 (1801), Year of the Rooster: He retrieved the artifact through mutual agreement regarding Shiraetoku Bay’s Shūhachirō’s rented residence.
On the 27th day of the same month, due to relocation: On the 19th day, when they excavated the site, they found the mouth of a large water jar in front broken, water pooled at the bottom, and the box rotted and split. Carefully extracting the box, they removed a corner plank, covered it with a mat, and retrieved only the genuine article.
It was placed in a box beneath the floor and buried there for the time being.
On the night of the 23rd day of the same seventh month, they retrieved the damaged box and jar lid, placing them together beneath the floor.

1. On June 8 of the second year of the same [era], [it] was deposited at Kokuzenshi Temple.
Regarding the above matter, though presumptuous to address those in high positions, [we pray for] their enduring martial fortune and the nation's security.
For the company’s orientation: enduring martial fortune for the household; prosperity for descendants.
Ritual prayers requested.